Chapter 12 - Thirty Thousand Feet
The rotor blades of the medical helicopter cut through the torrential rain as they lifted into the low cloud cover. Below them, St. Jude’s Hospital faded into a maze of blue flashing lights and smoke.
Inside the narrow cabin, Nora worked like a woman possessed. She had two patients: Mia, whose vitals were dipping precariously low from the stress of the evacuation, and Roman, who lay on the cabin floor, flat on his back, his skin cold and clammy.
“Pressure is dropping, eighty over forty,” Marco said, holding an oxygen mask over Roman’s face while keeping his hand on his holster.
Nora shoved Marco aside, kneeling over Roman. The wound was completely shredded. The muscular wall had given way under the violent struggle with Petrov. “I don't have enough whole blood to cross-match him,” Nora said, panic finally creeping into her voice as she checked her mobile supply kit. “His blood type is AB negative. It’s too rare. St. Jude’s blood bank was compromised.”
Roman reached up, his fingers weakly brushing Nora’s forearm. He pulled the mask down, his voice barely a breath against the roar of the helicopter turbine. “Don't waste... the blood on me. Give the platelets... to Mia. The transplant... needs to happen... now.”
“Shut up!” Nora snapped, tears finally spilling over her cheeks, mixing with Roman’s blood on her hands. “You don't get to die after making me run through a war zone! You're her donor! If you die, she has no marrow!”
Roman gave a faint, wheezing laugh that brought blood to his lips. “The harvested marrow... is already... in the case. Marco grabbed it... from Mercer’s lab.”
Marco lifted a sealed cryogenic transport canister from beneath his seat, nodding grimly. “It’s here, nurse. Forty-eight hours of viability.”
Nora stared from the canister to Roman’s graying face. “Then you stay alive to see her walk out of the hospital. Do you hear me, Roman? You don't get off that easy.”
May you like
She grabbed a large-bore needle, plunging it directly into her own arm, drawing her own blood into a transfer bag without waiting for an anticoagulant.
The helicopter suddenly banked sharply, the pilot shouting over the intercom: “Hostile bird on our tail! We have an attack chopper closing from the harbor!”
